


More than England

by SweetSorcery



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: 1800s, Age of Sail, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Mentor/Protégé, Missing Scene, Napoleonic Wars, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even newly promoted and married, Horatio believes he has nothing to fight nor live for but England. His mentor proves him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than England

"What is there more than England?" Hornblower asked with a frown of confusion.

Pellew's eyes widened. "Hornblower, stay awhile," he requested in a falsely cheerful voice. He did not order it, for he had never needed to. Hornblower considered everything he said to be an order, which was in keeping with his obsessive attachment to his duties. Such a thing was to be valued in an officer, of course, but of late, it had changed Pellew's favourite much. Too much.

"Of course, sir."

"At your ease, Hornblower."

Pellew frowned when Hornblower's pose did not relax. In fact, now he came to think of it, Hornblower never seemed to relax anymore. He looked like a man who held himself together with fierce determination, as though any incident might cause him to crumble.

Sir Edward Pellew went to retrieve his favourite port from his cabinet, poured two glasses, and handed one to the stiff-posed young man.

Hornblower took the proffered glass with a tight smile.

"Sit yourself down, man." Pellew's concern and impatience were both plain in his voice, and Hornblower obeyed immediately.

"Is anything amiss, sir?" Hornblower asked tentatively. "You seem..."

"I'll say there is something amiss, Captain Hornblower." Pellew huffed in frustration, but not wanting to risk the other closing himself off in this new shell entirely, he sat down. Next to Hornblower, rather than across the table. The last thing he wanted was to create more distance. "Look here, man," he began, but found himself interrupted.

"Have I caused offence in some way, sir?" Hornblower shifted uncomfortably.

Fighting the urge to snap at the young man, Pellew sighed. "You have not. But blast, Hornblower, what has happened to you?"

Horatio frowned. "Sir?"

"I hardly recognise you anymore. The service will change any man, especially in such uncertain times -  war one day, peace the next, something halfway between the two the day after that - but you appear to have lost all but your sense of duty."

"So then you _are_ dissatisfied with my performance, sir," Hornblower said morosely.

Pellew prayed for patience. "Let me re-phrase my statement, Hornblower. You are the best - _the_ best man in the Royal Navy - no, do not interrupt me, sir! Your courage and resourcefulness are without match, and your record speaks for itself. There is no man in the service who would not be proud to serve with you." Hornblower's face was flooded with colour by then, and Pellew found that the sight made him feel refreshingly nostalgic. "But for all that, you seem to have lost the very thing which made you so in the first place," he said gruffly.

At Hornblower's questioning look, he added, "Your love of life. Without it, like as not, you will throw your life away without so much as a care. And damn you, sir, I have no intention of reading over you on your last ship. You have much to do yet in the Navy, and we cannot spare you."

Hornblower looked positively scandalised. "But sir!"

"I believe I told you not to interrupt?"

Lowering his eyes, Horatio felt more like the young midshipman who had first come aboard _Indefatigable_ than he had at any time since. His heart clenched, and a lump rose in his throat and, with the flood of memories of those early days - of Pellew's brusque but encouraging leadership and his own enthusiastic response to it - he suddenly wished nothing more than to turn back time and start again, right there.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said miserably. He felt horribly close to tears and hoped desperately that the admiral would desist before he crumbled.

Pellew was knocked for six. How could this simple reprimand dull Hornblower's spirits so? He would be damned if he did not get to the bottom of this. And even as he regretted the harshness of his words, he could not help but see that they had, in effect, made a substantial crack in the young officer's veneer. Whatever it would take, he was determined to tear through the rest of it, and he now knew the way to do so.

"Pull yourself together, Hornblower," he said cruelly. "I've not made you post captain to watch you shrink away from me at a harsh word like a midshipman. I expect better than that from you of all men."

The words were so close to Horatio's thoughts, they took his breath away. He stared at the man before him - the admiral who had trusted and promoted him, the commodore who had all but snatched him from the clutches of death, the captain who had instilled in him his love of the sea and the service - and, with a violent shudder, he crumpled in on himself, sobbing.

Pellew's heart clenched as he stared, disbelievingly, at the man he had only once before seen crying. The same man who had of late shown every sign of growing distant and cold to all but his sense of duty. And yet, here he was, his head in his hands and his broad shoulders quavering, and Pellew felt as helpless as he had done the first time. "Hornblower," he said softly.

Horatio did not hear him. He held his arms wrapped around himself as if to protect him against a physical blow, sobbing wretchedly. What a disappointment he had become to the man he admired more than any other!

Cursing himself for an insensitive fool, Pellew knew he had to do something. He shifted forward and awkwardly placed his hands on Hornblower's shoulders, intent on shaking the man back to his senses, but instead, he found himself drawing the slender body against his breast.

Horatio's tears fell all the more freely now, coaxed forth by the unexpected compassion. Through his agony, he became aware of a warm, steady hand on the nape of his neck and the curve of Pellew's shoulder under his cheek. "Sir!" he sobbed, embarrassed by his own display.

"Hush. Quiet now, Hornblower. My order still stands."

Pellew's words were soft and soothing, and this manner too was one Horatio was well acquainted with from the past. This voice had comforted him before, but not like this. Not accompanied by touch - solid, warm, real touch, which neither made him uncomfortable like the touch of a stranger, nor repulsed like that of Maria. No, he would not think of her now. He would not.

Pellew shifted closer to hold Horatio more comfortably. He was astonished and pleased that he had not drawn away yet, and it became painfully clear to him that Hornblower needed this. He was plainly starved for such succour, for the long fingers were clutching at his own coat now, and the wet face pressed against his soaked shirt collar as though seeking out his warmth. What Pellew could not understand was how a recently married young man could be so starved for touch, even the touch of his old captain. Did the foolish woman withhold her affections from Hornblower? If so, damn her to the ends of the earth! The wench should count herself lucky beyond all reason to have ensnared _Hornblower_ of all men! This inner diatribe resulted in making Pellew so tense and protective, he crushed Hornblower against himself with near brutal force. When he heard the gasp of surprise - or was it distress? - he quickly loosened his arms around the broad back, but Hornblower would have none of it.

Horatio's fingers released Pellew's coat only so he could wrap his arms around the man's middle tightly. Perhaps his mentor was right to chide him for his disregard for the consequences of his actions, but right then, nothing was more important than to bathe in the comfort and affection offered to him.

Pellew found, to his horror, that Hornblower's reaction only made him more possessive, and he knew that there was no doubt he had to put a stop to this, and right away, lest his own defences should fall. "Hornblower," he muttered, and was surprised at the roughness of his voice. He cleared his throat and, with a monumental effort, gripped Horatio's upper arms and pushed the man back until he could look at him. Oh, but how vulnerable and young he looked once more! His weary soul and tightened features betrayed his true age, but his tear-stained face was so reminiscent of Muzillac, it both charmed and pained Pellew's heart.

Horatio blinked at him, his eyes enormous pools of misery with wetness clinging to his lashes and collecting in the tender indentation above his top lip.

"Heaven help me," Pellew whispered brokenly, and did what he had wanted to do even then, all those years ago. He gripped Horatio's shoulders, drew him close, and roughly pressed his mouth to the soft, swollen lips. It took but an instant for the trembling body to relax in his grip and, boldly, Pellew demanded more. When the bruised lips parted beneath his own, Pellew tasted salt and pain and surrender and, unbelievably, loneliness. He might be damned to the hottest corner of hell, but he wanted to vanquish it. It had no business hardening this young man's heart and suffocating his spirit. No business at all.

Horatio's heart was pounding as his mouth was being plundered and, for a frightful moment, he did not know what this was, this... phenomenon. He had never felt the like; had scarcely dared imagine it. He had never been treated thus, and had never himself been intimate with another if not for pity. But this was not pity. Not mere sympathy or a sense of obligation. This was desire - white hot and overwhelming desire. How would he ever live without this again?

Pellew could not fail to notice the way the man was shaking in his arms and, were it not for the moan of arousal spilling into his mouth from eager lips, he might have thought it to be horror. But his kiss was being returned with like hunger, and the tongue he offered was stroked and suckled gratefully. God, but how he had wanted this! Longed for it year upon year, dreamed of it as one would of an impossible journey to the moon, and tried to banish it from his thoughts. How would he ever let him go again?

Vaguely aware that he was crushing Hornblower's ribs against the edge of the table, he shifted backwards momentarily, and felt the young man's hands cupping his face as if to stay his withdrawal. Pellew's mind snapped back to reality and, with a gasp, he drew away, only to find Hornblower panting and shaking, gazing into his face he now held in his slender hands tenderly.

"Good God, Hornblower!" Pellew gasped, vaguely aware of his hands having settled on a slender waist but refusing to do anything about it. His ability to think was much hindered by the flushed, warm apparition before him, which smiled at him tentatively and rather nervously. Finding he could not avert his eyes from the much missed, genuine smile, Pellew admitted huskily, "My actions just now were wholly inappropriate."

"And most welcome, sir." An awed whisper.

Pellew stared, trying to ignore the way Hornblower's fingers were tracing his jaw. "What?" he muttered with a rare lack of eloquence.

"Most welcome, sir," Hornblower repeated. "Please, do not ask me to pretend otherwise." For some moments, there was no sound in the cabin but their erratic breathing as they held each other's eyes; even the sea had hushed and was most likely watching and listening, scandalised.

"Half an hour ago, Hornblower," Pellew began with great difficulty, "My world was quite definitely the right way up. Goodness gracious."

Hornblower ducked his head, a smile barely hidden by the disarrayed curls escaping from his queue. "Half an hour ago, sir," he admitted softly. "Mine was not."

Instinctively, Pellew tightened his hold on Horatio's middle, though he neither pushed him away nor pulled him closer. In fact, he was reluctant to do anything, lest he brought this other Hornblower - the one who did not smile, nor feel, nor want - back to the fore. "I am at a loss," he merely said. When Horatio did not respond but simply looked deep into his eyes, he added cautiously, "You are newly promoted, Hornblower, not to mention newly married."

"Yes," came the unenlightening, despondent answer.

"Does your wife not love you? Does she not... ahem... show you affection?" Pellew admitted to his innermost self that he hated the thought of anyone showing Hornblower this kind of affection, and had just decided to stop prying when he saw the grimace on Hornblower's face.

"Unfortunately, she does," said Horatio, and had to wait for a moment for his meaning to sink in.

Pellew swallowed. "But you feel none for her," he stated. There was no need to phrase it as a question, as the answer was plain enough to see. He had thought it his imagination when Hornblower, on his wedding day, had looked more like a lamb to the slaughter than a loving groom, but had put it down to a case of nerves. He dared not think that he might have prevented this foolishness.

"I do my duty," Horatio said hesitantly. "But anything more, I cannot bear."

"Your duty." Now it all began to fall into place. Oh yes, Hornblower had always done his duty, whatever he perceived that duty to be. Be it to king and country, or to some woman making sheep's eyes at him. The poor, beautiful, tragic fool had thrown his life away on a moment's false chivalry, and he was paying dearly for it. With his joy, his freedom, his very soul.

"I cannot love her," Hornblower was saying. "I fear I do not even make a decent show of pretence. And I feel nothing but... revulsion when I have to..." He shuddered.

"However did you steer yourself into this calamity?" Pellew asked with dread, unconsciously drawing Hornblower a little closer to rub soothing circles in the small of his back.

"Maria was kind to me when I was at the end of my tether and could not even pay my dues to her mother, but when I offered her recompense as a gesture of friendship once I was again able, she refused it for the sake of her reputation. So I..." He looked devastated.

"Offered her marriage instead, so she would allow your help." Horatio gave a great, heaving sigh and scrambled to his feet. Pellew instantly missed the contact with a shocking fierceness.

"You must think me the world's greatest fool, sir, and a truly despicable cur." Horatio hung his head, one arm against a bulkhead.

Pellew shook his head in exasperation. "I think that the lady probably would, if she knew. I take it she does not?"

Horatio gave a hollow bark of laughter. "She either is oblivious or chooses to be."

"Indeed." Pellew groaned inwardly. "Oh Hornblower," he said gently, and Horatio turned to face him. "I knew that one day, your sense of honour would get you into a sorry mess. I should say, another one." Neither of them needed to mention the name Simpson here. "But this..." He sighed.

Hornblower looked devastated. "It is my lot to bear as best I can, sir."

Pellew's eyes rested on the beautiful, dear face, which had seen tears and smiles and passion in the space of minutes, and found that, for all that, Hornblower looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

As if to confirm the thought, Horatio said softly, "Perhaps I should not have burdened you with this, sir, but I admit I feel all the better for it."

Pellew rose and was at Hornblower's side in an instant. "You were right to tell me, Hornblower. And by God, if I could think of a way to release you from your lot, I should do so without a moment's hesitation."

"Sir," Horatio whispered, blushing. "You have always been kinder than I deserve."

"Nonsense." Pellew tried to look stern, but failed utterly, now that he once more stood so close to the man. "You realise that your only options to rid yourself of your wife would involve tarnishing her name or ending your own career for good, don't you?"

Hornblower squared his shoulders and attempted to look determined. "I do not wish to see her in more dire a situation than the one from which I foolishly attempted to save her, sir."

"No," Pellew said proudly. "I feel certain you do not."

Broad shoulders sagging once more, Horatio sighed. "Yet I cannot deny that I dread shore leave more than the worst odds in battle."

"Hornblower..." Pellew rested a hand on Horatio's shoulder. "Horatio." Wide brown eyes stared at him. "I fear for you. I need hardly tell you--" Pellew cleared his throat and tugged at his collar, avoiding those pleading eyes. "Do not dare contemplate ending your imprisonment by trying the hand of fate! If you cannot fight for your wife and home, as well as for England, sir, then fight for--"

"You, sir?" Horatio asked, desperately hopeful.

Pellew's eyes met Horatio's and softened. "Would it lighten your burden?"

"It would lighten my heart, sir, and make my life worth living," Horatio said sincerely and tilted his head to brush his cheek along the hand laid upon his shoulder. He closed his eyes in bliss.

Pellew inhaled sharply. "To think..." he breathed. "That I have resisted you all these years." Horatio's eyes flew open. "Oh yes, Hornblower. I've chided myself for a thrice-damned fool to hope you might possibly desire me, only to have you come to my arms once you are wed."

"All these years?" Horatio asked, his voice trembling.

"All these years, Horatio." Pellew's hand left Horatio's shoulder to gently cup his chin as he leaned in and kissed him once more. This time, he was met halfway.

Horatio pressed himself close, and the already desperately missed arms enfolded him tightly once again. His pulse was racing and his heart crying out to him to surrender to this man who made him feel with an intensity he had never known.

Pellew felt unimaginably soft lips parting for him, sighing and quivering against his own, and he knew he was this young man's own to love or break at will. And however bittersweet, for now it was love he kissed and touched and breathed, and he would hold onto it for as long as he could and return it lavishly in kind. Horatio's curls beckoned, and Pellew brushed the already loosened ribbon from them easily. He caught the soft locks in the palm of his hand, imagining them - not for the first time - spread out across the bleak whiteness of his pillow, and the thought made his kiss all the more fervent.

Horatio moaned, his tongue seeking its counterpart. The tips of his mentor's fingers brushed sensuously along his scalp, and he felt suddenly desperate for the feel of skin against bare skin. Drawing back reluctantly, his eyes soft and unfocussed, he fumbled with the older man's neckerchief and pulled it carelessly away. Then he attacked the uniform buttons and the elegant shirt underneath until he could at least reach a small area of bare flesh.

As Horatio bent his head to kiss his collarbones and chest reverently, Edward groaned, his lips brushing Horatio's temple. He tightened his hold on the silky locks in his grasp and inhaled their scent longingly. "You rob me of my senses," he gasped.

"It is only fair," Horatio whispered brokenly, licking the hollow of his throat. "As you have robbed me of my heart with your first kiss." A long, slow lick up Pellew's throat. "Sir."

"Edward." Pellew's legs threatened to give in when Horatio's teeth nipped gently at his earlobe. "Or any foolish endearment you wish to bestow... oh!"

"Edward," Horatio breathed into his ear.

Shivering and clutching the merciless siren tight, Pellew manoeuvred them to his sleeping berth, where they tumbled down on soft linen. Silently thanking the king for the generous comforts of an admiral's berth, he removed Horatio's sword and let it glide to the floor with an elegant clink. Then he pushed the fine coat back over Horatio's shoulders, pulling and dragging the loose shirt beneath into disarray in his hurry.

Horatio fell back with a pleasurable sigh as hot, gentle hands tugged at his shirt, then slipped underneath and, encouraged by the sounds he made, ventured across tight, sensitive nubs to his flat stomach and around his waist. When they came to rest at the small of his back, he arched upwards, long neck exposed, and shivered delightfully.

"Horatio!" Edward whispered over and over. "Horatio..." Raining kisses over the smooth skin, bobbing Adam's apple and racing pulse, he held his love close, his hands warm brands low on Horatio's back, his fingertips only barely beneath the edge of the breeches.

Horatio tried to speak, lovingly thwarted at every turn by a touch or kiss or lick, and finally contented himself with moans alone. Oh, what he had missed! What they had both missed!

Edward felt the young man tremble in his arms, his breathing shallow and uneven, clearly overcome with emotions, and loved him all the more for his surrender. Surrender to him. "No one," Edward whispered against Horatio's ear as he stroked up his side firmly, "no one will ever love you more passionately..." his thumb rubbed a firm nipple, "or more completely..." he kissed Horatio's temple tenderly, "than I."

Horatio sobbed then, his arms tightening around Edward's neck, his whole body arching up against him as though trying to fuse them together by sheer willpower. This was happiness - bittersweet, tragic, beautiful happiness. This was love indeed, and he should have recognised it long ago. He tried to tell Edward, but then his mouth was being ravished once more and, when he thought he might die from the ecstasy bestowed by Edward's hands and lips, their legs shifted and their bodies aligned in perfect symmetry, pressure meeting pressure, and suddenly, there was a new urgency to their touches. Horatio canted his hips upward, groaning, his fingers clawing at Edward's back and quite possibly tearing his shirt.

"Shh..." Edward tried to soothe him, but could not help strain against Horatio, could not help fumble with trembling fingers until he could undo the flap of Horatio's breeches, push aside his linens, and cover the hot, throbbing flesh with his palm.

Crying out, Horatio shook and jolted in the warm grasp, his hands scrambling to slide under Edward's shirt and, at the same time, find their way inside his breeches also. A further shift of the men's positions, and they were able to do both. Panting harshly against each other's sweat-soaked necks, Horatio and Edward stroked each other, alternately forceful and desperate, then tender and gentle but, finally, the former was their only option as they raced towards a moment of perfect bliss, neither willing to leave the other behind. Their hands let go as though by mutual agreement, clutching at dishevelled clothing and bare skin instead, and they rutted against each other. And with a single groan shared in an open-mouthed kiss, they spilled their essences between them, then sank into sweet oblivion together.

Coming slowly back to his senses, revived by the sweet scent of Horatio's damp skin against his face, Edward smiled. He raised himself on his elbow to gaze down at his lover, whose face had softened and mellowed into that of the tempting youth who had once stolen his heart. He brushed back a lock of damp hair and kissed the centre of the high forehead, surprised to feel arms tighten around his middle and a sigh warming his cooling neck.

"Edward," Horatio whispered, and never had a single word been infused with more love.

Edward looked down at the smiling, contented face. "Yes, my darling?"

"Do you know that everything bright and wonderful I have known in my life, I have received from you?" asked Horatio softly, his fingers playing with the damp collar of Edward's shirt. "I feel that without you, I should not be at all."

Edward's squeezed his eyes closed lest his emotions should spill over. His hand was grasped and warm lips were pressed to his pulse. When he opened his eyes again, Horatio was gazing up at him softly.

"You are mine, Horatio. You always have been and always will be," he said tenderly. Horatio nodded, his lips curving into a gentle smile. "And I am yours." Edward returned the smile. "For..."

"Ever."

"Yes," Edward agreed, sealing the pact with their lips.

THE END

  
© and ™ of characters, locations, and some story lines - the estate of C. S. Forester, A &amp; E and possibly other entities; this story was written solely for the entertainment of other fans; no profit is made and no harm or infringement intended.


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